This is Fifty Second Week.

There’s an awful lot of music released every year, and as hard as I try to hear it all, I can’t. In fact, as hard as I try to review everything I hear, I can’t do that either. Hence this annual tradition, in which I clear my backlog from the year as quickly as I can. This is my way of wiping the slate, and greeting the new year fresh.

How does it work? I have in front of me 52 albums from 2011, none of which received a full review in this space. It’s not that they weren’t deserving, it’s that the march of time is a bitch. So for the last column of the year, I’m going to review them all. I’m giving myself 50 seconds for each one – I have one of those handy desktop stopwatch programs, and when it beeps, I’m done, even if I’m in the middle of a sentence. In fact, it’s more fun if I am.

Fifty-two reviews in just under an hour. This is Fifty Second Week. Ready? Go!

Adele, 21

Adele was everywhere in 2011, with her big, booming voice. There’s nothing really wrong with this soulful little album (except the cover of “Lovesong”), but I can’t listen all the way through. She only has one setting on that voice, and it gets wearying.

The Baseball Project, Volume 2: High and Inside

Second outing from Scott McCaughey and Peter Buck and company. This one is even more ragged than the first, if you can believe it, but there are some great true baseball stories here, including a serious concentration on my Boston Red Sox.

Battles, Gloss Drop

Not nearly the revelation that Mirrored was, this sophomore album skimps on the super-complex instrumental madness of the debut, and adds vocals on some of the weaker tracks. Sure, Gary Numan is here, and that’s cool, but this album is a definite disappointment.

James Blake

This may or may not be my first dubstep album – I have trouble keeping all the electronic subgenres apart. Blake has a really nice voice, and apparently his big innovation is writing actual songs, which he does pretty well here. It’s spooky, but it’s definitely recognizable as pop music.

The Book of Mormon Original Cast Recording

Oh. My. God. Trey Parker and Matt Stone conquer Broadway with the filthiest, funniest musical I’ve heard in years and years. There’s no bad here – the story of two Utah Mormons sent to Uganda to convert the natives is touching and hilarious. Hasa diga eebowai!

Broken Bells, Meyrin Fields EP

I can’t think of any reason these four songs were not appended to the already very short Broken Bells album. The collaboration between Danger Mouse and James Mercer of the Shins sounds exactly the same here, in this bite-sized collection. It’s still pretty good.

BT, These Humble Machines

One of two supplemental records for Brian Transeau’s massive These Hopeful Machines double album, this one condenses that record’s 12 songs onto one disc. I can barely tell you what’s missing, the editing is so good.

BT, These Reimagined Machines

And here’s the other, and the much more substantial one – 17 remixes across two hours, and one of the finest remix projects I’ve ever heard. These songs were largely sublime to begin with, but in these other hands, they’re blissed-out wonders.

Cage the Elephant, Thank You Happy Birthday

Cage the Elephant have exactly one good song, and it was their hit: “No Rest for the Wicked.” You can hear the ideas running out as this second album progresses. It’s not worth your time.

Cassettes Won’t Listen, Kevinspacey

Technically, it’s called Evinspacey, since Kevin Spacey threw a fit, but the hell with that. This is the second album from Jason Drake, and he makes chilly electronic pop music with wonderful melodies. This is bedroom pop at its best, particularly “Echoes.”

Alice Cooper, Welcome 2 My Nightmare

Is this sequel worthy of the 1975 shock-rock original? No, not really. But it is one of Cooper’s best albums in a long time, and it preserves the original’s classy sleaze, if that makes any sense. There are songs called “I’ll Bite Your Face Off” and “Ghouls Gone Wild,” if that helps.

Cut Off Your Hands, Hollow

Proof that all the good band names are taken. This record is a really good slice of country-rock mixed with ‘80s clean-guitar goodness, like the Smiths meets Smith and Wesson. Despite the horrible name, I ended up li

Dawes, Nothing is Wrong

As a regular reader of the AV Club, I want to say this album is the pinnacle of all music, curing all the world’s ills with that sweet Laurel Canyon sound. But I won’t. This is actually a damn fine guitar-rock album from a meat-and-potatoes band that does their thing very well.

Dream Theater, A Dramatic Turn of Events

If you thought Dream Theater would flounder without founding drummer Mike Portnoy, think again. New guy Mike Mangini is less show-offy, and the focus is on some of the best prog-tastic songs DT has written in years. A pleasant surprise from a band I was worried about.

Florence and the Machine, Ceremonials

This is really good, and I’m not sure why I didn’t get around to reviewing it. Florence Welch has a strong and powerful voice, but she uses it in service of some quirky, all-out dramatic songs here, and it works. This is a go-for-broke second album, and I almost always like those.

Foster the People, Torches

Another one that deserved a full, in-depth review. Torches is the electro-pop album of the year, thanks to Mark Foster’s danceable, hummable, infectious tunes. Yes, they’re about dark subjects. No, you won’t notice while you’re dancing.

Hammock, Asleep in the Downlights

Two of the greatest shoegaze bands on earth, Hammock and the Church, team up for this four-song EP, on which every tune sports vocals. This is a new thing for Hammock, but they pull it off – this is hazy, dreamy, beautiful stuff.

I Can Make a Mess Like Nobody’s Business, Gold Rush

Ace Enders, formerly of the Early November, returns with this nine-song collection of decent, singable guitar-pop. He’s come a long way since “Ever So Sweet,” and these songs are among his best, although I seem to prefer it when he goes acoustic.

Alison Krauss and Union Station, Paper Airplane

What’s left to say about Allison Krauss and Union Station? This is a great record. They’re all great. Krauss’ high voice is in fine form, the band’s bluegrass twang is perfect, and this one includes an absolutely wonderful version of “Dimming of the Day.”

Limp Bizkit, Gold Cobra

HEY! HEY!! BREAK SHIT! FUCK SHIT UP!! I’M FRED DURST, AND I CAN SAY FUCK! YOU DIDN’T MISS ME AT ALL!! TRUST ME!!

Loney Dear, Hall Music

A darker and more difficult record from Emil Svanangen, this one piles on brass and strings and other instruments to great effect. It’s still bedroom pop, of course, but this one sounds fuller, more substantial. I like it a lot.

The Lonely Island, Turtleneck and Chain

Second album from Andy Samberg’s crew is just as funny as the first, and includes “Jack Sparrow,” a thing of sidesplitting beauty featuring Michael Bolton. A few bum tracks, but overall a solid second

The Lost Dogs, It Came From the Basement

The soundtrack to a new live DVD, Basement rarely betrays the cramped, overheated, torturous conditions under which it was made. The Dogs sound great here, especially on an extended, crazy, what-the-hell-just-happened rip through “Why Is the Devil Red.”

Lotus

The latest purveyors of danceable mostly-instrumental rock. This album doesn’t do a whole lot to distinguish itself, but it’s a fun time.

The Low Anthem, Smart Flesh

Either this band requires a lot more patience than I have, or their sleepy, lazy, traditional mopes are just about the most boring thing I’ve ever heard. I have tried to get through Smart Flesh half a dozen times, and I just can’t make it. It’s terrible.

Stephin Merritt, Obscurities

Proof that the songs Stephin Merritt throws away are better than the ones most people proudly present as their best work. All of Merritt’s projects are here, and his witty way with both a melody and a cutting turn of phrase is ever-present.

Tom Morello The Nightwatchman, Union Town

An EP with a union theme from this folk troubadour who used to be in Rage Against the Machine. The title track is as typically hardline as you’d expect, and the rest of the album covers songs by Woody Guthrie and others. The highlight is the closing live “Union Song,” played in Wisconsin this year.

Tom Morello The Nightwatchman, World Wide Rebel Songs

And here’s the full-length album, and it’s somehow less impressive. Morello turns up the amps here, and though his songs are the same sort of leftist shoutalongs they’ve always been, they just seem somewhat diminished under the distortion. I like some of this, though.

Peter Murphy, Ninth

Long-awaited new one from the venerable Bauhaus frontman. This record is everything I’ve ever liked about Peter Murphy on one disc. Creepy-cool songs, played loudly, with the old man’s voice in superb form. I’m already excited for Tenth.

Meshell Ndegeocello, Weather

Surprisingly accessible album from this soul-folk wunderkind. There’s no jazz noodling, no soundscapes, nothing but straight-up good, memorable songs, and Ndegeocello’s unforgettable voice.

Gary Numan, Dead Son Rising

Do you miss the industrial heyday of Nine Inch Nails and other bands of that ilk? You may want to check out what Gary Numan’s been doing for more than a decade. If all you know is “Cars,” the fascinating music on display here will flip your head around.

Richard Page, Solo Acoustic

I have always liked the Mr. Mister frontman, but rarely more than I do in this setting. Just Page, his great voice, his fine songs and an acoustic guitar. I love this, especially his takes on “I’ll Remember” (which he wrote for Madonna) and his hits “Kyrie” and “Broken Wings.” You’ve never heard ‘em like this.

Pain of Salvation, Road Salt Two

Second half of a double album in which these Swedish prog-metallers jump headlong into dirty ‘70s rock and balladry. It’s a surprisingly good fit, even if this record gets a slow start. Daniel Gildenlow can sing damn near anything, so it shouldn’t be surprising that he can sing this stuff.

Pajama Club

Every time I think Neil Finn can’t disappoint me more, he finds a way. This tossed-together effort brings in his wife Sharon on bass, resigns one of the best pop voices ever to the drums, and ends up with a load of forgettable grooves in search of anything to make them worthwhile.

Panda Bear, Tomboy

About what you’d expect from this Animal Collective member – psychedelic swirly soundscapes with oceans of harmonized vocals on top. This is really good for what it is, and Panda Bear stands out as the best in a field of one.

Radiohead, TKOL RMX 1234567

I’m on record as liking The King of Limbs, Radiohead’s too-short effort from this year. But these pale and repetitive remixes don’t add anything to it. This is the kind of thing that only exists because it exists.

Real Estate, Days

This is a nice little record. Trafficking in the clean guitar rock of many an ‘80s underground band, Real Estate writes good little songs, and plays them with an almost total lack of pretension. This record breezes right by on chiming tones, and you’ll want to play it again.

Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren’s Johnson

Rundgren had two albums in 2011, and they were both different kinds of embarrassing. This one finds him covering the venerable Robert Johnson in full Blues Hammer style, electronic drums and pealing guitars and big Aerosmith-style riffs. It’s pretty awful.

Todd Rundgren, (Re)Production

Another fascinating failure of concept, (Re)Production finds Rundgren covering songs he produced for other artists, but doing them in what he really thinks is a modern dance club style. It’s out of touch and hard to listen to, especially since I’d like to hear straight covers of some of these.

Said Fantasy, Horse of Faded Grandeur

These three short tracks were all we got from Ronnie (Joy Electric) Martin in 2011. The kickoff of a new project that sounds an awful lot like his old project, the Said Fantasy EP is nice and charming and silly, but way too short. More, Ronnie, more!

Duncan Sheik, Covers ‘80s

Now this is how you do it. Duncan Sheik’s impeccable Covers ‘80s starts with an unimpeachable track listing, and casts each song in a stripped-down format perfect for his wavering, lovely voice. I enjoyed the hell out of this.

Smith Westerns, Dye It Blonde

This record did pretty big business this year, and I’m not sure why. It’s nice indie-pop with a Beatles flair, but it’s nothing special. Or, at least, it’s not as special as I was led to believe.

Switchfoot, Vice Verses

Switchfoot goes for volume and aggression over melody and songcraft on this long-awaited effort, and the results are decidedly mixed. I like some of these tunes, but none of them enough to call this a success. And the song on which John Foreman raps…? No. Please.

Tapes N Tapes, Outside

Good third record from this underrated band. Tapes N Tapes play a kind of blocky indie rock that takes some unexpected twists and turns. This is nothing I would shout from the rooftops about, but for what it is, I quite liked it.

Terry Scott Taylor, Swine Before Pearl Vol. 1

First installment in an odds-and-sods series from the genius behind Daniel Amos. This one starts with a whole bunch of newly-recorded acoustic tracks before moving into the usual demos and rough mixes. It’s a great little collection, if you’re a fan, which I am.

Terry Scott Taylor, Swine Before Pearl Vol. 2: Madness and Blindness and Astonishment of the Heart

I know, that title, right? The second installment in the series has more acoustic, live and demo tracks, and is just as much fun as the first. I am particularly taken with an unreleased Daniel Amos track called “UFO,” and a new Taylor tune called “You Ring My Bell.”

Telekinesis, 12 Desperate Straight Lines

Another indie-pop act I’ve been led to expect great things from, and another little disappointment. These tunes are fine, this glimmering pop is certainly enjoyable, but it ain’t great stuff. It’s just pretty well OK.

Tres Mts., Three Mountains

A teamup between Doug Pinnick of King’s X and Jeff Ament of Pearl Jam? How could it go wrong? Here’s how: they failed to write any songs worth hearing. This is wretched, in point of fact, one of the biggest disappointments of my year.

Washed Out, Within and Without

A very well-named band. Washed Out play blissful electronic drone-pop, wafting by on waves of sound that, well, wash over you. It’s good stuff, buoyed by the occasional pulsing drum beat, but it gets old over an entire album.

We Were Promised Jetpacks, In the Pit of the Stomach

This band? This band fucking rocks. The second album from these blistering Scots is all powerhouse riffs, precision guitars, thunderous drumming, and bellowing vocals. It’s kind of amazing, if you’re in the mood for it.

Gillian Welch, The Harrow and the Harvest

Welch, on the other hand, never gets old. She and David Rawlings fill this album with the same heartbreaking heartland folk music they’ve always played, and it never fails. This is just ten more great little songs, played and sung with rare sincerity.

Kanye West and Jay-Z, Watch the Throne

Insufferable. A low point for both Kanye and Jay-Z, this album is just two rich guys bragging about their wealth (during a terrible recession) over lazy, amateur production. And it goes on forever, so there’s that.

“Weird Al” Yankovic, Alpocalypse

And we end with Weird Al. Sometimes he’s more inspired than others, and this is one of the other times. It’s not bad, and it keeps the formula going – six originals, five parodies and a polka. But pop music is so lame these days that the parodies can’t help but follow suit, aside from the savage and wonderful “Perform This Way.” Laughs can be found, but not many.

And that brings us to the end of another Fifty Second Week, and another year. As always, I’ll be taking the first week of January off to recuperate. Thanks, everyone, for reading my stuff this year, and I’ll talk to you in two weeks. Year twelve! I can’t believe it.

Leave a comment on my blog at tm3am.blogspot.com. Follow my infrequent twitterings at www.twitter.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

So this is Christmas, and what have we done?

Well, let’s see. In 2011, I got a great new job, I bought my first home, I met many new and wonderful people, and I participated in a musical project I’m very proud of (www.madeinaurora.com). I went to Cornerstone again, I saw Second City, I watched a friend of mine sing with They Might Be Giants, I called 911 for a choking man, and I learned a lot about myself. All in all, it was a really good year. I have complaints, but they seem petty when stacked next to all the good 2011 brought me.

So here we are at the end of it, and I get to survey the musical wonders this year delivered as well. And once again, it was an incredible year. For months on end, something new and magical hit stores every week, and the announcements just kept coming. I made a few new discoveries – two of which made the top 10 list you’re about to read – and saw old favorites step up and deliver like never before. This is, if you don’t mind me saying, an astonishingly good top 10 list.

Like any good list, there are rules. Only new full-length studio albums of (mainly) original material need apply. No live records, no b-sides or remix collections, no best-ofs, no EPs. And each album must hit stores (or the interwebs) between Jan. 1 and Dec. 31, 2011. Eagle-eyed long-time readers will note that I’m allowing a digital-only release onto the list for the first time ever this year, simply because not including it would be ridiculous. So I guess I’ve made my way into the 21st Century. In the end, it wasn’t really a difficult decision at all, as you’ll understand when we get there.

With so many great albums hitting this year, I was spoiled for choice when it came to this list. There have been years when I’ve struggled to fill 10 slots, but this year, I could have made a top 20 list with no problem. That means the list you’re about to read is more about my own taste than just about any I’ve done. With so much greatness to choose from, the particular kinds of greatness I respond to most will make their way to the top. And they did.

That means you won’t see some nearly-universal favorites from 2011 in this list. I want to assure you that I’ve heard them, from Adele to Fucked Up to M83 to Wye Oak to St. Vincent to Steven Wilson. I just didn’t like them as much as everyone else did. I plan to put together in-depth reviews of each of the worthy records I appear to have missed this year for sometime in January. And I’ll explain then why they didn’t make the list you’re about to read.

What did? Well, we have two senior citizens making late-career triumphs. We have two brilliant new bands overcoming the sophomore slump like champs. We have a pair of discoveries, a couple more welcome returns, and at the top of the heap, an angry, defiant, painful, glorious record from one of the best songwriters working today. Shall we?

Here is the 2011 top 10 list.

#10. The Boxer Rebellion, The Cold Still.

The first of my new discoveries. Every couple of weeks, someone asks me if I like the National. I don’t, but until I heard The Cold Still, I couldn’t really put my finger on why. The Boxer Rebellion, an English band on their third album, makes the kind of music the National wishes they could create. It’s simple stuff, all rising and falling chords, slow and soothing and dramatic, but it’s full of life. Just take the opener, “No Harm.” Four piano chords, simple beat, and some guitar flourishes. But when Nathan Nicholson digs into the chorus, it’s unspeakably moving. I wish this hadn’t been my first Boxer Rebellion experience – in some ways, their second album, Union, is better, and I missed it. But I won’t miss any more.

#9. Over the Rhine, The Long Surrender.

This record, the 12th from the husband-and-wife team behind Over the Rhine, came out in January. It’s been hanging on to its spot on this list for longer than any other album here, and it just would not let go. A stratospheric peak for this band, The Long Surrender brings their fascination with jazzy textures to the next level, and combines it with their love for classy balladry. The result is timeless and beautiful, raw and perfectly spit-shined, simple yet deeper than the ocean. I want Karin Bergquist on the list of the most celebrated singers we have. I’m not sure what else she’d have to do to make such a list – her work here is extraordinary and heartbreaking. One of the best albums ever from a band I’ve loved for a long, long time.

#8. The Violet Burning, The Story of Our Lives: Liebe Uber Alles, Black as Death and the Fantastic Machine.

Yeah, take a minute and deal with that title. Now deal with the fact that this album is a two-hour-and-40-minute triple-album concept piece about losing yourself and finding faith. And then, deal with the notion that the band produced, released and marketed this thing all on its own. Quite frankly, I don’t think anyone else could have been trusted to get this right. This is Michael Pritzl at the absolute top of his game, and he takes his band through some of the loudest material in TVB’s catalog, and some of the prettiest. When Pritzl titled one of these three chapters Black as Death, he meant it – the guitars are molten, the riffing explosive, the vocals raw and throat-shredding. But when he titled another Liebe Uber Alles (Love Over Everything), he meant that too – some of the songs here will shatter you, but they will also lovingly show you how to heal. Every listen reveals something new, some hidden meaning or melody weaving the three chapters into a whole. The Story of Our Lives is 2011’s most ambitious undertaking, and one of its most smashing success stories. Go here.

#7. Kate Bush, 50 Words for Snow.

This may seem like an obvious statement for Kate Bush fans, but there is no one else on earth who would make an album like 50 Words for Snow. It moves at its own drifting pace – seven long songs in 65 minutes, with a wintry piano the main (and often, the only) instrument. There are duets with Elton John and Stephen Fry, songs about Bigfoot and sexy snowmen, and an opening track sung entirely by Bush’s young son, Bertie. None of this should work; every second of it does. It’s her most serene record, sounding for much of its running time like staring out a picture window at the season’s first snow. It’s also her most heart-rendingly beautiful. More than 30 years into her career, Kate Bush remains a singular treasure.

#6. Glen Campbell, Ghost on the Canvas.

Yeah, I’m surprised too. Here’s the story: Glen Campbell, a legend if ever there was one, has Alzheimer’s. Ghost on the Canvas is the last album he plans to make, a farewell to a life well lived. You’d think that might lead to a maudlin collection of sentiments, but you’d be wrong. This album, produced by Julian Raymond and Howard Willing, is a joyous statement of contentment and peace. It pulls in songs from Paul Westerberg, Robert Pollard and Teddy Thompson, along with some originals, and wraps them together with interludes by Jellyfish’s Roger Manning. But the key here is Glen himself, sounding strong and in command, and waving goodbye with the most hopeful music you could imagine. Listening to this brings a smile and a tear every time. It’s a lovely way to go out, and Campbell deserved nothing less.

#5. Bon Iver.

A self-titled album usually signals reinvention, and boy, does it here. Justin Vernon, the man with the weepy voice and the sob story about a cabin in Wisconsin, effectively obliterates his past here with a fascinating jigsaw puzzle of a second record. Massive, dense, monolithic, and yet still fragile and gentle, Bon Iver begins with an apocalyptic near-metal march and ends with an ‘80s ballad straight out of Night Ranger. In between, Vernon shifts gears a dozen different times, and layers that voice atop it all, grounding it and letting it soar. It’s a most unexpected move from Bon Iver, but a brilliant one – the album reveals new layers with each listen, and the pieces fall more into place. And it all leads to “Beth/Rest,” one of the bravest and most jaw-dropping songs of the year. Early in the album, Vernon sings, “All at once I knew I was not magnificent.” He’s never been more wrong.

#4. Josh Garrels, Love and War and the Sea In Between.

Until July of this year, I had never heard of Josh Garrels, a singer-songwriter from Portland, Oregon. It’s been my loss. All this year, Garrels has been giving away his sixth album, Love and War and the Sea In Between, for free online. It’s a move that has brought him more notice and more acclaim than ever this year – we journalists love easy talking points – but even if the free sample got you in the door, the sheer quality of this extraordinary album kept you coming back. Garrels has trafficked in folk, pop and hip-hop, but this is the one that brings it all together, an 18-song opus of commanding presence and depth. From the explosive force of “The Resistance” to the delightful lilt of “For You” to the cascading beauty of “Ulysses,” the year’s prettiest song, Garrels never falters, and in the album’s phenomenal final third, he adds a conceptual, Biblical heft that drives the entire thing home. Discovering Josh Garrels has been one of the biggest joys of my year. Try this record – you have nothing to lose. Go here.

#3. Paul Simon, So Beautiful or So What.

Back in 1969, Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel sang a song called “Old Friends.” It imagined the singers as two old men on a park bench, wistfully proclaiming, “How terribly strange to be 70.” Well, here we are – Paul Simon is 70 this year, and while that is terribly strange, his career has been unpredictable and amazing to follow. If So Beautiful or So What, his best album in two decades, is indeed his last, it will be a fine and fitting capper to a life of musical adventure and lyrical genius. Here, over subdued yet funky grooves, he tackles the big questions: is death something to fear, and what’s waiting on the other side? What do you do with all the regret you’ve accumulated? In a simply astonishing set of lyrics, he imagines himself as a man rewriting his own life (“Rewrite”), and as a dead man finding out what lies beyond (“The Afterlife”). It’s all darkly funny, searching, beautiful stuff, particularly the sparse “Love and Hard Times,” which reduces me to tears with every listen. In the end, Simon says, life is what we make of it. He’s made it a song worth singing again and again.

#2. Fleet Foxes, Helplessness Blues.

I was actually worried about this one. After their sublime debut album, would Seattle’s Fleet Foxes be able to at least maintain that level of quality on record number two? Reports of scrapped sessions didn’t help my confidence. But when all was said and done, Helplessness Blues turned out to be another masterpiece. It retains the core of what they do – sun-dappled West Coast folk with enchanting, otherworldly harmonies – but takes it in new directions. Suite “The Plains/Bitter Dancer” exemplifies this, nimbly moving from section to section, soaring on those voices. But it’s the comparatively simple title track that contains the heart of this record, and it’s a beautiful thing, timeless and yet somehow old as time itself. I don’t know how long they can keep this up, but with this second record, Fleet Foxes proved they’re no fluke. They really are what they seem to be – a modern folk band with roots as old as the ground, and dreams as high as the stars.

Which brings us to the top of a very tall heap. The album at number one will be no surprise to readers of this blog, or to readers of ThinkChristian, where my review of it appeared earlier this month. It drew a wide spectrum of responses, from those condemning my doubt to those who shared it. It was a gratifying experience, and I owe that opportunity to my friend Josh Larsen. But I also owe it to this searing, honest, phenomenal record.

#1. Quiet Company, We Are All Where We Belong.

Quiet Company is a band from Austin, Texas, led by a guy named Taylor Muse, who just happens to be one of the finest songwriters I’m aware of. I’ve watched him grow from capable to brilliant in the space of three albums, to the point where I would put his songs up against those of just about anyone else I could name. I can count the disappointing Taylor Muse songs on one hand. None of them are on We Are All Where We Belong.

Had this just been a brilliant pop-rock album by a great band, which it is, it would still have charted on this list. But We Are All Where We Belong is more than that. It’s Muse’s breakup album with God, his final word on the religious upbringing of his youth, and the emotional pain it’s caused him. It’s a conceptual piece about giving up on the very notion of spiritual faith, and turning our efforts to the life we have, and the people we love. It’s a frightening, difficult, and ultimately joyful ride, the most thrilling hour anyone produced this year.

And it affected me deeply. I went through a lot of the same spiritual questions Muse raises on this record, and wrestled with a lot of the same doubts. I came to different conclusions, but then, my journey wasn’t nearly as intense – see the verse about suicide in “The Black Sheep and the Shepherd.” But I have screamed to the heavens with anger, as Muse does on “The Easy Confidence,” and I have yearned to hear the voice of God, and been met with silence. This album captures those experiences so completely, so perfectly, that I relived them as it played.

Some parts of this album, like the two “Preaching to the Choir Invisible” sections or “The Easy Confidence,” are terrifying in their palpable anger. But some, like the impossibly lovely “Midnight at the Lazarus Pit” and “Are You a Mirror” – the perfect new father song – are simply beautiful. And when you get to the final stretch, in which Muse adopts the voice of God himself and concludes that “we’re all gonna be just fine,” it’s the happiest, most freeing musical moment of the year.

Should it be? I’m not sure. That’s the power of We Are All Where We Belong – I don’t fully agree with it, but I’m swept up in it. I’m frightened and fascinated by it. And I can’t stop listening to it. Even as 14 songs on a piece of plastic, it’s the best album of the year by a considerable margin, but as a sweeping statement about rejecting faith and embracing love, it’s powerful in a way I can’t truly explain. It moved me like nothing else I heard this year.

You can hear it too, right here.

So, that’s it. Next week is Fifty Second Week, and then on to 2012. Hope your year was as good as mine, and the next one is just as good to us both. Leave a comment on my blog at tm3am.blogspot.com. Follow my infrequent twitterings at www.twitter.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning… and to all a good night.

I can hardly believe that 2011 is over.

Well, we still have a couple of weeks, but for all intents and purposes, it’s a done deal. It’s in the books. Next week I’ll be unveiling my top 10 list – the best damn top 10 list in many years, if you ask me – and then it’s Fifty Second Week, and we’re done. This is my eleventh year writing this silly music column, and I’m grateful for everyone who comes back each week to read it. (And everyone who waits the sometimes two and three weeks it’s taken me to post them this year. I hope to have that problem licked in 2012.)

There’s a danger in treating the current year like it’s over, though. 2011 still has a few gasps of life in it, and I’ve got two of them on tap this week, in addition to an extensive list of honorable mentions for my top 10 list. Just so I’m not duplicating efforts, though, you can definitely assume an honorable mention for both of the records I’m about to (briefly) review.

Onward!

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The popularity of the Black Keys among the indie crowd baffles me.

This is not a knock on the Keys, a band I really like. But they take from sources so alien to the indie scene – Delta blues and ZZ Top, to name a couple – that the fact that every move they make is lapped up by the same audience that appreciates Bon Iver is kind of weird. It’s a good kind of weird, though, especially since it means more press and more love for this dynamic duo.

The Keys are guitarist Dan Auerbach and drummer Patrick Carney. They’ve been on a steady rise for years, but in 2010, they released their breakthrough, a long foot-stomping record called Brothers. Much as I like that record, it petered out by the end of its 55 minutes, wearing out its welcome about 10 tracks in. The Keys have solved that problem most effectively on their seventh platter, El Camino, and they’ve also returned to their thick, pulsing blues sound. The result is an incredibly enjoyable album, whether you’re into Justin Vernon’s beard or Billy Gibbons’.

Auerbach and Carney have teamed up with Danger Mouse again, making El Camino something of a sequel to 2008’s Attack and Release. But where that record exploded their formula, this one celebrates it. Opener “Lonely Boy” may be the best slab of Texas blues the band has recorded, and “Gold on the Ceiling” is snarling and hummable. The one real departure here is “Little Black Submarines,” an honest-to-God ‘70s rock epic in four minutes. It begins with delicate acoustic guitars and tambourines, but ends with molten lead guitars and thunderous Ragnarok-and-roll drumming.

The rest of El Camino is just the Black Keys doing what they do, though, and it’s fantastic. It’s dirty, tight, noisy and bluesy, and it’s over in 38 minutes – pretty much exactly the right length for a Black Keys album. This isn’t a raw experience – Danger Mouse’s production includes liberal sprinklings of keyboards and organs, and a level of gloss you won’t hear on Thickfreakness, for example. But this is the closest to an old-school Black Keys record they’ve delivered in some time, and I love it.

One more note: the album is called El Camino. The album art features pictures of 15 different vehicles, and not one of them is an El Camino. That’s kind of awesome.

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If it’s fair to say that I have a responsibility to review all kinds of music, then it’s also fair to say I’ve badly failed at that mission when it comes to hip-hop.

The thing is, I just hear so little of the stuff that I like. I know it’s probably not true, but it seems like there’s a higher percentage of poorly-thought-out, mass-produced garbage coming from that corner of the music world than many others. As a f’rinstance, in two weeks, you’ll find a negative three-sentence review of Kanye West and Jay-Z’s Watch the Throne, a definite low point for both artists. And those are guys I like.

There are just so few bands like the Roots that every record that Philadelphia collective puts out is worth celebrating. And yet, I never have celebrated one in this space. I love several of them – the straight-up steamroller Things Fall Apart, the messy Game Theory, last year’s mellow How I Got Over, and most recently, Wake Up, the band’s tremendous collaboration with John Legend. I just haven’t taken the time to praise them in this space.

That ends now. Undun, the Roots’ 13th album, is something of a masterpiece – one of the best records in their catalog, and one of the best rap albums I’ve heard. It’s a concept piece about a man named Redford and his ill-fated life, told in reverse chronological order – the first two tracks give us Redford’s violent death, and then we spin backwards down the number line to piece together the choices that brought him there. It’s a great conceit, and the Roots play it out perfectly, bringing in guest stars like Dice Raw and Big K.R.I.T. to play different aspects of Redford’s personality.

Through it all, the Roots – easily the best live band playing this music – lay into some fantastic grooves. Like How I Got Over, this album is surprisingly reserved, with ?uestlove rarely digging into a real explosive beat. The album has a ghostly feel to it, even during good-time party anthems like “Kool On.” The Roots never let you forget that this story ends in tragedy. My favorite is “Lighthouse,” with its unstoppable hook, but every song here is superb, and they all serve the whole.

Undun ends with its most fascinating stretch of music, the four-part “Redford Suite.” It’s based on Sufjan Stevens’ piano ditty “Redford (For Yia-Yia and Pappou),” and at first, the band is just content to have Stevens play it. But over the next three movements, they expand on it, with strings and dissonant jazz piano. If the record begins in death, it ends in the infinite possibility of birth, and this suite (all of 5:18) paints that picture beautifully.

The album as a whole is similarly short and sweet – a grand total of 38:41, slightly less than the length of your average television episode. That turns out to be perfect, exactly enough time to tell this story and leave you wanting more. The Roots have been very good for a very long time, and they’ve rarely been better than they are on Undun. If you only know them from Late Night, check this out. You’re not going to find a more thoughtful, organic rap outfit anywhere.

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So, would you like to see the rest of the honorable mentions? There’s a lot of ‘em. Fifteen, to be exact. But first, I’ll start with a couple of other categories.

For instance, the worst record of the year (and maybe even the decade) has to be Lulu, the excruciating collaboration between Metallica and Lou Reed. People use the word “unlistenable” pretty often to describe perfectly listenable music they don’t like. This album is positively unlistenable. It’s not the year’s biggest disappointment, because I didn’t expect much. No, that honor goes to the Feeling’s lousy third album, the double-disc Together We Were Made. It’s like they ran out of gas, but decided to drive a marathon anyway. Just blah.

The album I most wish I could include in my top 10 list is Peter Gabriel’s New Blood. It doesn’t meet the criteria – it’s reworkings of old songs, not new material – but it’s magnificent. These orchestral recastings of songs I know and love are often breathtaking works of art, allowing me to hear them afresh. It’s a great record, and if the rules were different, it would be on the list.

So now here are the 15 eligible records that just barely missed my top 10 list. In no particular order (except the last one):

David Mead returned with a snarky winner called Dudes, while Jonathan Coulton proved that his enduring Internet popularity is all about the songs with the decidedly un-geeky Artificial Heart. The Click Five released their best record yet, TCV, while Radiohead finally made a pitter-patter electro album I really liked with The King of Limbs. Feist took her inimitable voice to darker places on Metals, while The Joy Formidable exploded onto the scene with The Big Roar.

Lady Gaga delivered her first album that truly deserved the hype with Born This Way, while Fountains of Wayne returned to form on Sky Full of Holes. Frank Turner made his most reflective and best record with England Keep My Bones, and Tori Amos took on classical melodies and orchestral scores with Night of Hunters. The Bangles (yes, the Bangles) made a swell pop record with Sweetheart of the Sun, while Wilco (yes, Wilco) rocketed back to excellence with The Whole Love. It’s the first album from Tweedy’s bunch that I’ve unreservedly liked since Yankee Hotel Foxtrot in 2002.

We bid goodbye to R.E.M. this year, but not before they made one last amazing album with Collapse Into Now. Coldplay continued to prove that they’re more than just arena-sized commercial popsters with the sparkling Mylo Xyloto. And finally, my number 11 (which actually spent quite a bit of time as my number one): PJ Harvey’s dark, devastating anti-war masterwork Let England Shake.

Any 10 of these would make for a fine year-end list. But none of them are on it. This year’s list is pretty damn great. Tune in next week to find out what actually did make it.

Leave a comment on my blog at tm3am.blogspot.com. Follow my infrequent twitterings at www.twitter.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

I know a lot of musicians. And sometimes, some of the musicians I know will do something extraordinary, and I’ll want to share it with you. So for the past few years, I’ve written these People I Know columns, all about the marvelous musical minds I get to call friends. But it’s not often I get to write about a project I’m part of. I get to do that this week, and I’m pretty well ecstatic about it.

I’ve been talking about it for three weeks, so here’s the full story. The project’s called Made in Aurora, and it’s a series of vinyl albums bringing together local artists from the Aurora, Illinois area. It’s the brainchild of Steve Warrenfeltz, owner of Kiss the Sky, the record store I’ve gone to once a week for the past six years. It’s one of those stories that warms your heart: Steve saw a huge amount of local musical talent going ignored, so he decided to invest his own money to bring in some much-deserved attention.

He hooked up with my good friend Benjie Hughes, owner of Backthird Audio in Aurora, and set out to find the best bands and artists he could. He ended up with an extensive list: Dave Ramont, Jeremy Keen, Andrea Dawn, Greg Boerner, Noah Gabriel (more on him in a minute), Kevin Trudo, Dick Smith, Hoss, Peter Hix, and on and on. That list of names might not mean anything to people outside the Aurora circle, but if you live here, you know that’s a damn fine lineup.

Needless to say, I’m honored to have contributed to this. The first Made in Aurora album came out in April, on Record Store Day, and it was a huge hit. I played piano on Kevin Trudo’s song “Once a Week Won’t Kill You,” and I wrote the liner note essay. The record was (almost) entirely made up of original tunes, and contained some absolute corkers: Jeremy Keen’s “Charlotte Ave.,” Dave Ramont’s “Piece of the Sun,” Dave Nelson’s amazing “Blue Sally,” Dick Smith’s “Hunker Down,” and Trudo’s “Cost,” to name a few. It was a slab of Americana so good, you’d never guess it was a local artists compilation.

And now, here is Made in Aurora Volume Two, subtitled City of Lights. This one’s a little different – it’s a Christmas album, it’s almost entirely covers, and it includes a number of local artists who weren’t included the first time around. But like the first one, it’s pretty wonderful.

Let me get my full disclosure out of the way up front: I again played piano on Kevin Trudo’s track, a cover of Dolly Parton’s “Hard Candy Christmas.” I also sang on the big group piece, John Lennon’s “Happy Xmas (War is Over),” and I again wrote the liner notes. I’m involved, pretty heavily, so if you want to dismiss this review as self-interest, that’s your right. But even if I hadn’t been under the tent on this one, I’d still recommend the hell out of this album. Let me tell you why.

To begin with, while most Christmas albums I know are pretty consistent in tone (see all three of my reviews last week), this one’s remarkably varied. I’ve taken to describing it as the White Album with Christmas songs. The first side alone begins with a plaintive reading of “Happy Xmas,” followed by Hoss’ horn-driven cover of Trip Shakespeare’s “Snow Days,” Jeremy Keen’s skipping acoustic version of Low’s “Just Like Christmas,” and Andrea Dawn’s sad, slow piano original, “Mr. Evergreen.”

As you move through the record, you’ll get dirty Delta blues (Scott Tipping and Dave Nelson’s “Christmas in Jail”), cello-fueled hippie funk (“Dollar Store Christmas,” by Funktional Family), head-spinning Gypsy polka (Dick Smith’s “Gold Front Tooth”), heart-stopping soul (“Merry Christmas Baby,” by Mary Lou O’Brien) and a jazzy would-be standard (“Christmas is the Warmest Time of the Year”) written by the mayor of Aurora. It’s enough to make you dizzy, but somehow it all works on one piece of plastic (or two pieces of vinyl). Thank Kyle Schmidt, the magician in the mixing and mastering booth, for much of that.

I could spend the next thousand words talking about each track, but I’ll just bring up a few of my favorites. Made in Aurora Volume Two is the lead-singing debut of Mary Lou O’Brien, and she knocked me flat – her soul-stirring “Merry Christmas Baby” is unbelievable, and she somehow breathes new life into Joni Mitchell’s often-covered “River.” (Those high notes! Held for so long!) Hoss takes an old Dan Wilson song, “Snow Days,” and rocks it to the ground, with an assist from Dave Ramont. (“Mrs. Braintree, you’re a chilly northern woman…”)

Andrea Dawn, whose new album comes out early next year, has a stunning voice, and her sleepy, jazzy tune is a winner. Greg Boerner does his Greg Boerner thing all over “Winter Wonderland,” with splendid steel guitar by Chris Walke. Benjie Hughes gathered his friends together, including singers Ben Thomas, Lisa Gloria, David Yeager and Andrea Dawn, to run through the manger story “The Friendly Beasts,” complete with a wonderful backing vocal arrangement. And yeah, the track I’m on is pretty great – Kevin Trudo sings the hell out of it, and the band, which usually goes by Meathawk, is tight and terrific.

Really, though, it’s all good. You won’t be sorry you picked it up. Even if you’re not from around here, and you’ve never heard of anyone on this record, it will still bring you hours of holiday joy. And you’ll be helping out a great cause – proceeds from the sale of Made in Aurora go to the Paul Ruby Foundation, which raises money for Parkinson’s Disease research. You can’t beat that. Go here to check it out.

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Noah Gabriel has been a part of both Made in Aurora albums – that’s him playing one of the sweet, sweet electric guitars behind Mary Lou O’Brien on “Merry Christmas Baby.” But he’s also one of the most prolific local solo artists. He’s released six albums since 2005, and is working on two more. Despite that, even people in this area aren’t too familiar with Noah, and I think they ought to be.

His two new records show both sides of his musical personality – the sparse Mercy Street is his lonely-at-home album, mainly just Noah and his acoustic, while the sprawling Ghosts of Tomorrow shows off his blistering live band, and plugs into a rich, full sound. They’re both worth hearing, since they capture Gabriel moving forward, developing as a songwriter and band leader. And while I still haven’t heard that song yet from him, that tune that stays in my head for weeks and defines him as an artist, the 23 tracks on these two records are very fine indeed.

In many ways, both these records are about performance and vibe, even though they take different roads to get there. Mercy Street was released on vinyl, and you can hear why – it’s an album that makes you feel like you’re right in the same room with Gabriel as he strums and sings. The more sedate first half includes the very pretty title track, and the aching “At World’s End.” Neither of these songs go much of anywhere, but Gabriel sings them with such emotion that you won’t care.

Things pick up on side two, which opens with the brief “Poor Flat Bastard” and then jumps into the (literally) stomping “Cold Blooded Blues.” “Powder Blue” brings in a subtle organ, which is a really nice touch, although the song meanders. The album ends with “Crazy Dream,” the song Gabriel and Greg Boerner recorded for the first Made in Aurora album. It’s still very good, and the electronic drums, while surprising, work well. But before that plays, you’ll hear my favorite thing here, the spooky banjo ambience of “Them Bones.” There’s so much reverb on this it could drown, but the effect is terrific – the song brings chills.

But Ghosts of Tomorrow is by far the better effort here, in my opinion. Credited to the Noah Gabriel Band, this is the one that turns the amps up. Ghosts captures the experience of seeing this band live, and though it gets by more on searing guitar playing and a tightly-wound vibe than on memorable songwriting, it’s an enjoyable and diverse 53 minutes. While I like “Tennessee,” the surprisingly slow-burning opener, to me this record doesn’t take off until “Another Bad Day,” with its soaring guitar solo.

After that, it’s a pretty varied ride. “Fire Fields” is a ballad with some sweet fiddle, while “Fade” brings in the banjo and harmonica for a sweet and folksy five minutes. (I just wish it had a killer chorus. It’s crying out for one.) “Fix It” is an anguished cry, while “Where’s Your Love” cranks up the blues-rock, and “Tomorrow” hits a Jack Johnson groove with a saxophone solo. It really does go all over the place, but every destination finds Gabriel and his band playing with remarkable skill. And, near the end, he whips out “Baby Calm,” one of his finest songs – it’s memorable in a way many of these other tunes aren’t.

And yeah, that’s my one issue with Noah Gabriel – I wish his songs had more immediate melodies, and went more fascinating places. What he does, though, works well. Both Mercy Street and Ghosts of Tomorrow showcase a strong talent that deserves a wider audience. Check him out here.

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Next week, a couple of late-year winners, and this year’s honorable mentions. I can’t believe it’s already that time. Leave a comment on my blog at tm3am.blogspot.com. Follow my infrequent twitterings at www.twitter.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.